13 years ago today, my daughter was born. She’s our second and final child.
She has an older brother, and they needle each other unmercifully, as siblings will do. She plays guitar, has dabbled in ballet, and is quite the little chatterbox. She loves to read, and teachers have complained how she’ll have her nose buried in a book instead of listening to the lesson.
She’s not shy, by any means, my little bull-headed Taurus. In fact, she’s had some problems with her classmates, because she’s not afraid to tell them to stop their whining and move on with life. Her teachers have noted she seems to have more self-confidence than most girls her age.
She’s still a bit of a tomboy, and I have to get on her to brush her hair and brush her teeth. Her room is clean when everything is shoved to the sides of the room and the middle is empty of clutter. She’ll attack new projects with gusto, then moves on to other things with gusto. She wants to go to Harvard Law School and practice in Hawaii.
This weekend, I’m taking her to get her ears pierced, then I’m taking her and her school chum (another chatterbox, there will be no quiet this weekend) to a tea room in Mount Dora, where we will have high tea and then wander around downtown. Quite the ladies day out!
Happy birthday, sweetie. How did you get to be a teenager overnight?
